


Furry Little Problem

by thepirateandhisprincess



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepirateandhisprincess/pseuds/thepirateandhisprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First she's going to kill David, and then she's going to kill Killian, and then she is never going to let him leave the house again. Or, Killian adopts five cats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Furry Little Problem

“I may have accidentally sort of adopted five cats.”

The words stopped Emma in her tracks as she entered his room at Granny’s, eyes flying upward to stare at the rather sheepish looking pirate standing before her. She stood frozen by the open door, a bag of takeout hanging limply in her hand as Killian shifted from foot to foot, hooked hand rising to scratch nervously behind his ear. She wanted to believe this is a poorly thought out prank, but Killian’s eyes are sincere (and more than a little worried) and she blinked once and then twice because _there are cats on the bed._

“That is the weirdest hello ever,” said Emma after a moment, huffing at herself a little because that is _so_ not the point. Killian’s lips twitched upward, though the worry in his eyes didn’t lessen. Emma quickly tried to arrange her features into an angry expression instead of the open-mouthed shock that had written itself across her face the instant she stepped through the door. She’d just had a long day alone at the station, her back sore from bending over the paperwork David had conveniently forgotten to complete during his shift. All she wanted was to curl up with some grilled cheese, her pirate, and maybe some Netflix, but clearly that wasn’t happening because _there are cats on the bed._

“I apologize, love,” said Killain with a shrug. “I tried to call your talking phone to inform you of the situation, but you didn’t answer.”

“It’s out of battery,” said Emma distractedly as one of the cats jumped off the bed, meandering over to rub its furry gray head on Killian’s legs. A smile spread across Killian’s face as he leaned down to run his fingers across its head, seemingly not minding the tufts of gray fur that were dusted across his shoes and pants.  

Emma jumped as another cat meowed loudly from the chair in the corner. The gray and white cat completely ignored Emma as it made its way from the chair to the bed, jumping up lithely and curling up with the others.

“So,” said Emma at last after the silence had stretched on and she’d finally regained some sort of mental composure. “Mind telling me how this happened?”

“Well,” said Killian, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth as he tilted his head and regarded her nervously. “Your father suggested he and I spend more time together, and, as you know, your father occasionally helps out at the animal shelter he worked in during the first curse…”

Emma groaned, interrupting his story, the takeout bag dropping from her hands. She covered her face and sighed, fingers moving to massage at her temples, attempting to allay the stress headache she could feel coming on.  While she is pleased that her father and boyfriend are getting along better, she’s still not used to the fact that they spend one and one time together – and she’s even less used to the weird hijinks the get up to.

(Like painting all of Regina’s apples green. Or, apparently, allowing Killian to adopt five cats)

(She is going to _kill_ David)

“Fine,” huffed Emma after a moment of silence, eyes rolling to the heavens. “It’s your room, so whatever. But I am _not_ helping you take care of them.”

* * *

Her declaration lasts all of two days before she realized Killian has absolutely no idea how to care for an animal besides feeding it occasionally; his life as a ship’s captain not really being conducive to caring for a pet. Begrudgingly, she took each cat to get spayed or neutered (because the last thing they need is _more_ cats invading Granny’s), get its shots, and have a check up (because _of course_ Henry loves the cats as much as Killian does and god help her if she has to deal with her boys’ dejection if one of the cats dies)

Granny was decidedly _not_ pleased when she learned about Killian’s new additions and for a moment Emma was hopeful that Granny could be the bad guy and insist the cats leave. Emma didn’t really _do_ pets; she had spent so long just looking out for herself that getting a pet had never really crossed her mind. Plus, she was getting really, really sick of brushing cat fur off her clothes after her Netflix dates with Killian. 

But, of course, one of the cats was an uncannily good mouser, and it doesn’t take long before Granny has a soft spot for the damn things, feeding them cooking scraps as the littler ones weaved happily around her feet. Emma has lost count of the number of meals she’s been put off of by the sight of the mouser prancing towards Killian, her soft gray and white body wiggling with pride, green eyes smug as she dropped whatever she’s found and killed before him on the rug. 

( _“_ Feisty,”said Killian with a chuckle and a wink that does _not_ turn her knees into gelatin, thank you. “Just like her namesake”) 

(He had named the cat “Swan” and no, she is not flattered, she is _not_ ) 

(Well, maybe a little)

* * *

Henry and Killian had taken great pleasure in carefully selecting a name for each cat, names that were now embossed on small silver tags that dangled from collars around each cat’s neck. They were all named after superheroes, at Henry’s insistence, all but Davey (an uncoordinated young cat with golden fur and bright blue eyes) and Swan.  

(Davey’s the slowest of the bunch, and Emma thinks Killian meant it as a dig towards her father – and David had taken it as such – but she hadn’t missed the genuine pleasure on David’s face as Davey curled up on his lap, and really she doesn’t think her father is that offended at all)

It’s amazing, really, how quickly the cats had squeezed their way into the hearts of her family (traitors, every last one of them). Despite her half-hearted complaints Emma didn’t really mind the cats too much – that is, until she spied the five cats using her new leather jacket as a napping spot.

“When we live together,” Emma had said angrily, pulling the jacket from beneath the sleeping kittens, raising an unamused eyebrow at their plaintive whines. “They are not coming with us.”

“When?” was Killian’s half-whispered reply, and Emma’s face had burned red, her earlier frustration giving way to mortification. They hadn’t really discussed _that_ aspect of their future and here she was making _assumptions,_ but the hope shining in Killian’s eyes had melted her heart a little and she couldn’t help but grin softly at him.

(When they do finally get their own place, the cats come with them)

(It’s not the worst thing ever)

 

 


End file.
